


Atsumu Miya was completely fine

by Hanatsu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, I'm Sorry, Idiots in Love, Lots of massages, Love Confessions, M/M, Miya Atsumu Needs a Hug, Miya Atsumu swears a lot, Miya Atsumu-centric, Pining Miya Atsumu, SO SORRY, happy but super stupid ff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29956671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanatsu/pseuds/Hanatsu
Summary: Atsumu Miya was completely fine.His volleyball career was going splendidly, and his massive crush on Hinata Shouyou was absolutely under control.Six hours, thirty-seven minutes and eleven seconds later.''I want to open an ASMR channel!''''Ya wanna open a fuckin' what?!''Or, the fic in which Hinata opens an ASMR channel because he wants to help people fall asleep, and in which Atsumu realizes he's completely fucked.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 18
Kudos: 127





	Atsumu Miya was completely fine

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys! Let me say this first: english is not my first language. It's pretty much a legendary pokemon to me, so please (please, please, please) forgive my mistakes. And enjoy! And thank you!

Atsumu Miya was completely fine.

His volleyball career was going splendidly: he was idolized by fans, he was in perfect physical shape, and his team had even won the opening game of the annual tournament against the Adlers. Hinata Shouyou, in addition to souvenirs, had brought back from Brazil a will to win that had inevitably infected the entire MSBY. A renewed enthusiasm, and a genuine hunger, floated through the air of the gym while they trained, and the physical and psychological performance of each member had become even more efficient. Plus, Shouyou's thighs had become even more toned (Atsumu would have loved to feel them tighten around his neck), and his skin was the same colour as the golden sunrise, which were, predictably, facts that Atsumu appreciated a lot.

Atsumu Miya was doing great, really.

At his disposal were strong spikers who jumped and ran all over the court with a snap of his fingers. He was the director, he was the puppet master, he was the craftsman who molded victory like an artisan with clay. A pay raise would’ve been great, sure, but Atsumu preferred to focus on what he possessed in that moment: stunning looks, popularity, intelligence, brilliant skills (and a lot of modesty, too).

Sure, his daily routine in the apartment he shared with his teammates wasn't exactly going smoothly (living with Sakusa meant living a traumatic and potentially fatal experience, especially if you drank from his glass or used his towel, while Bokuto screamed, screamed, and screamed from seven in the morning), but they spent most of their free time in the gym, so it wasn’t actually that problematic. Plus, there was Shouyou in the room opposite his own, Shouyou who woke up everyday at dawn to meditate in the living room, with the first rays of the sun reflecting on his skin, his carrot-colored eyelashes trembling, his freckles sparkling like diamonds and...

No. No. _No_.

Atsumu Miya had only imposed one rule to himself: falling in love with teammates was strictly forbidden. Volleyball was too important to risk compromising his balance just because he couldn’t discipline his (very annoying) feelings. His crush on Hinata Shouyou was temporary and would fade in a few weeks.

Therefore, Miya Atsumu was completely fine, really. The animal desire to fuck Shouyou in the locker room, on the dining table, in the shower, on the balcony, while he was meditating, was peeeerfectly under control.

Or so he thought.

Six hours, thirty-seven minutes and eleven seconds later,

''I want to open an ASMR channel'' Shouyou announced suddenly.

 _''Ya wanna open a fuckin’ what?''_ thought Atsumu, choking.

"You want to open a fucking what?" asked Sakusa aloud, arching his eyebrows skeptically as he sat down next to him.

Hinata Shouyou was the only member of the team who had managed to earn first the forbearance, and then the trust, of Sakusa Kiyoomi. Shouyou cleaned the shelves even when it wasn't his cleaning turn, he respected his space, and he never dared to drink from his glass or to use his towel. Sakusa, in return, reserved for him the honor of always sitting next to him during meals, which was pretty much a revolution. Translated, it meant that even Sakusa hadn’t been able to remain indifferent to the newcomer's charm. Shouyou always washed his hands, and this was definitely a point in his favor, but Atsumu was convinced that Sakusa also noticed the growth of Shouyou’s thighs.

''An ASMR channel,'' Shouyou repeated. ''You know, the videos that make people sleepy. The ones with massages, whispers, and relaxing sounds. Yachi told me that she can't properly rest at night, so I bought her a book, but I don’t think it’s enough, and while I was thinking about how I could help her using other methods, I came up with this idea!''

''As long as you don't make the house dirty, do whatever you want'' Sakusa replied with a shrug, then wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up, staring at Atsumu. ''It's your turn to clear the table today.''

''I know!'' retorted Atsumu in a choked voice _(massages? whispers? soothing sounds? was shouyou fuckin’ kiddin’ him?)_.

''Then stop asking for Shouyou’s help even to rinse three fucking dishes.''

''It's not a problem for me, Omi-san! I’m happy to help!''

''I know, Hinata. But you’re too good, and Miya’s too lazy.’’

Then he walked away and disappeared into his room, and Atsumu heard the sound of the lock turning. Shouyou looked at him, dumbfounded.

''Did he just... did he just give me a compliment?''

''I think so, Shouyou-kun.''

''Oh my god,'' Shouyou whispered, his gaze fixed on Omi’s door. ''Oh my god. I can't believe it.''

''Me neither. This is the first time I've heard him say somethin’ like this. Holy fuck.''

Shouyou stood petrified for a few moments. Atsumu, meanwhile, picked up the dishes from the table and rinsed them using the sink.

''Atsumu-san!" Shouyou called him again, looking at him with shimmering eyes, copper melted in the irises.

Oh shit. What if Atsumu grabbed him by his sweatshirt, pushing him against the sink, licking the tender skin of his neck, his ears, kissing his forehead, and...

No. He's a teammate. _No._

''Would you help me with something?''

''Of course,'' Atsumu replied immediately, without hesitation despite knowing nothing, because Shouyou deserves the entire universe and Atsumu would’ve done pretty much anything for him. ''What do ya need?

Twenty-two minutes and eight seconds later,

Atsumu Miya was completely fine. His life was shining, because it was a convergence of victories and positive events. He was able to eat free onigiri whenever he wished because of his brother, and he had a bright future ahead of him, appropriate to his equally bright career and appearance. He was surrounded by people he respected, and his friends and team were practically his family.

Atsumu Miya was doing great, really.

Or at least so he thought, until he found himself lying on Shouyou's bed with his shirt off, his face buried in his pillow, the smell of orange in his nostrils, and most importantly, Shouyou’s hands on his back.

Atsumu Miya wasn't fine.

Atsumu Miya was fucked.

Five minutes and forty-four seconds earlier,

''Thanks for your help, Atsumu-san!" exclaimed Shouyou cheerfully, setting the camera so that it pointed toward the bed. His ringing voice echoed through the room, and under his skin. ''If you want, you can take off your shirt and lie down.''

_Fuck._

Atsumu took off his sweatshirt (fuck), then he lay down on the soft bed sinking his face into Shouyou’s pillow (fuuuuuuuuck), and finally inspired his orange scent permeating the pillowcase (fuck, fuck, FUCK).

''Meian-san also approved the idea!" added Shouyou excitedly. ''He said it could be useful in gaining popularity for the team. And in the meantime, I could help people fall asleep. It's perfect, isn’t it?''

Perfect. Perfect, he said. It wasn't perfect. It was a fucking disaster.

''Although it's not like I'm actually very practical with this kind of video. In Brazil though, I learned how to give proper massages!''

''Fuck'' Atsumu groaned.

''What?''

''Nothing. It’s gonna be fine. Ya always manage to do everything, Shouyou-kun.''

Even though he couldn't see it, Atsumu almost heard Shouyou’s smile. Oh shit.

Of course Shouyou was going to do fine. And Atsumu was going to die.

Shouyou was moving something, perhaps he was adjusting the camera angle. A shiver spread down his spine almost hurting him, because of its intensity.

''If I do something that annoys you,'' Shouyou said, and Atsumu almost jolted, because his voice rang so close to his ear. ''Tell me. I can cut out the parts that come out wrong later anyway, okay?''

Atsumu nodded into the pillow (into Shouyou’s pillow). Honestly, the only thing he would've wanted to cut off in that moment was a little lower.

''Are you sure you want to do this, Atsumu-san?''

''Shouyou-kun, it's not like yer gonna kill me.'' (Liar, this is exactly what was going to happen.)

Shouyou laughed. ''Alright. Um, does it bother you if I use oil? For the massage, I mean.''

Atsumu's mind went totally blank, he stopped processing what was happening around him, inside him, in the world, in the universe.

"No no, go ahead" he replied, ready to die with honor. _"Fuck me too, while you're at it"_ , he would have liked to add.

"Okay, then let's get started!’’

He heard Shouyou unscrew something, probably the oil bottle. Something cold dripped down his back, and Atsumu had just a moment of regret that he hadn't insulted his brother as his last gesture in that life, before he...

Bursted apart. Exploded. Ascended.

Oh.

Oooooh, shit.

Holy fucking shit.

Fuck.

Fuck.

_Fuuuuuuuuck._

Shouyou's fingers were melted butter, warm and soft. Atsumu would’ve done anything, even kissing Kageyama, just to feel them tightening around his throat, or maybe slipping inside his mouth. He would have happily choked on them. The scented oil (was that coconut?) blended with the smell of Shouyou's shampoo tied to the pillowcase, and that’s why declaring that Atsumu had just reached the nirvana was an understatement. Shouyou's hands slid over his skin, between his shoulder blades, down his spine. At first, he spread the oil a little unsure, crumbs of shyness seeping from his hesitant touches. Then, after a few minutes, he gained confidence, and oh, holy fuck, holy shit, and holy fuck again, he began reeaally massaging the muscles with the palm of his hand using circular motions, weighting the intensity as best he could in order to avoid a too intrusive pressure, but making it still effective.

Atsumu let out a satisfied sigh like a cat's purr, while Shouyou smoothed every inch of bare skin that had turned to sandpaper because of the shivers. Shouyou diligently traced the contours of his bones, caressing every single vertebrae.

It was as if his back had become a canvas, and Shouyou was painting on it taking care of every single detail. And the further down he went, the more Atsumu was torn apart inside. He was undecided whether to run away, to stay there as a martyr and die melted, or whether to crush him against the mattress and then open his legs.

Atsumu completely lost track of time, and every time Shouyou's fingers approached the elastic band of his pants, Atsumu had to try with all his might to avoid raising his hips to meet him.

Whimpers of pleasure escaped his lips. Atsumu had just turned into a soft, trembling pudding.

 _''If this doesn't end soon''_ , he thought desperately, _''I'm gonna cum on his fucking bed.''_

He didn't know how long he continued. It seemed to him an instant, and at the same time an eternity. When Shouyou's warm palms finally left his skin, which had become soft wax under his fingers, Atsumu wanted to drown.

''We're done!" chirped Shouyou. ''You can stand up if you want to, Atsumu-san!''

Stand up? There was absolutely no way Atsumu was going to be able to stand up. Not in that condition, not in front of him. He had a fucking sequioia upraising between his legs, and not even the oversized sweatshirt could ever hide the excitement that had literally fleshed out his insides. Shouyou would have noticed for sure.

"I think I'll stay here a little longer," Atsumu whispered, his face buried in the pillow. "Your bed is way more comfortable than mine.’’

''Oh! Of course, stay as long as you want! We can watch a movie together, if it’s okay with you.''

Of course it was okay. It was a fucking dream. What could be nicer than spending the evening watching a movie with a teammate that Atsumu wanted one, to fuck until he bled, two, to hold him against his chest, three, to kiss his hair until dawn (in this order, then repeat), without actually being able to do any of it?

Atsumu needed to escape from that room. He urgently needed a diversion.

He could have asked Shouyou to bring him a glass of water (Shouyou was too kind to refuse) and used the moment to sneak into his own room, lock the door, and jerking off with Shouyou's name between his lips and the memory of his hands sliding down his back.

"Hey hey hey!" exclaimed a voice.

Bokuto fucking Koutarou was back. Atsumu would’ve kissed him right on the mouth for the immense feeling of gratitude that exploded in his chest.

As he expected, Hinata ran towards him exclaiming 'Bokuto-san!', like a dog greeting its owner when they come home, leaving Atsumu alone. Atsumu, quick as a snake, slipped out of bed and ran towards his own room, the voices of Shouyou and Bokuto echoing cheerfully in the small living room.

At that moment however, Sakusa stepped out of his own room. He glanced at him from top to bottom, focusing especially on the bottom, then arched his eyebrows in a look so disgusted that Atsumu, who had never felt embarrassed in his life, blushed.

''Please don’t tell Shouyou-kun and don’t ask me any questions'' Atsumu hissed.

''I had no intention of asking you something. For my own sanity, I'll pretend I didn't see any of this.''

Atsumu nodded, and then he slipped into his room, locking himself in. He breathed a sigh of relief, finally free to stick his hand in his underpants. He reached orgasm in record time.

''Atsumu-san!'' Shouyou exclaimed a few minutes later at his door, knocking. ''Are we going to watch the movie?''

‘’Yeah, gimme five minutes.’’

''Me too!" Bokuto said, not far away. ‘’Omi Omi, do you wanna watch it with us-’’

‘’I don’t want to see Miya for at least five years.’’

One hour, forty-seven minutes and twelve seconds later,

Atsumu wanted to kiss Shouyou. It was an urgent, necessary need. It was worse than when Shouyou massaged his back.

The problem now was that Shouyou had curled up against him, his head resting on his shoulder, his hair tickling his neck. Atsumu wasn’t watching the movie at all, he was too busy trying to suppress the instinct to put an arm around his shoulders, bite his freckle-spattered cheek, push Bokuto off the couch, and lick Shouyou’s neck.

That wasn't just a crush. It wasn't simple physical attraction, it wasn't superficial desire. Of course he wanted to fuck him, but it wasn't just that, because otherwise he wouldn't have found himself counting Shouyou’s eyelashes that flickered while he was captured by the movie, he wouldn't have wanted to take him to the aquarium, Shouyou wouldn't have seemed so bright, and most of all Atsumu wouldn't have wanted to call his brother and say "Samu, I'm in love, what the fuck am I gonna do?’’.

Nothing. He couldn't have done anything. He shouldn't have done anything, in fact. Shouyou was his teammate. Atsumu didn't fall in love with his teammates. No feelings, no romance, no fights. It was a fundamental rule, the most important of all, stuck in his mind like magnets stuck to the refrigerator. Volleyball was everything. His personal life, due to this, was in fact non-existent since volleyball occupied everything else. Hinata was on the volleyball side, that’s why he was essential and that’s why there was no place for feelings between them. Atsumu wouldn’t have risked compromising the team's perfect balance because of his desire.

Not because he cared about the others, of course, but because he wanted to win. He wanted to be first, he wanted to be the best, he wanted MSBY to conquer the victory. The only thing he could do in the meantime was jerking off using pornhub and hoping that his massive crush would at least fade away.

''What do we do now?

Shouyou's voice made him wince, even though he was whispering. ''What?''

''Bokuto-san is asleep. Shall we wake him up?

At that moment, Atsumu realized that the television screen was off. The movie ended. Bokuto, resting against Shouyou, was snoring blissfully.

''Well, yeah. I mean, we should.''

''Yeah, we should.''

''Let's wait five minutes, Shouyou-kun.''

Shouyou closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead against his neck. ''Yeah, five minutes.''

Seven hours, forty-six minutes and nine seconds later,

Sakusa woke them after opening the living room window. Shouyou jumped with a squawk and he ran to do his morning meditation in his room. Bokuto wiped the drool off his face, and Atsumu sighed, putting his hand on his forehead, devastated.

Sakusa handed him a cup of coffee. It took Atsumu a while to realize it was for him. Sakusa had never made him breakfast in three years of living together.

"I really pity you," he explained, responding to his puzzled look.

Atsumu brought his coffee cup to his lips.

After all, Atsumu Miya wasn’t really completely fine.

Thirteen hours, thirty-one minutes and thirteen seconds later,

Hinata inaugurated the channel, renamed ''NinjaShouyou ASMR,'' uploading the first video in the evening, thanks (in part) to Kenma's editing work. As Meian predicted, the video imploded with views. Shouyou was as excited as a child entering an aquarium for the first time, gratified by the massive result and by the idea of helping people fall asleep wiping away their anxiety.

That same night, immersed in the darkness of the room, Atsumu clicked 'play' on the video, the light of the screen stinging his eyes.

It was just because of mere curiosity, of course. Certainly it wasn’t because he wanted to see Shouyou's fingers rubbing coconut oil on his shoulders. Who knows, maybe he would have actually fallen asleep, maybe that video would have really succeeded in stifling the overexcitement that had been making his bones shiver for days.

Watching Shouyou's palms massaging his back, however, more than pushing him to close his eyes, pushed him to stick a hand in his underwear, biting hard his lips to stop himself from moaning out loud. Because Shouyou's hands, the same ones that fiercely crushed the balls Atsumu setted to him, were marked by an unexpected kindness. In the movements he used to massage his muscles, there was the same care, the same passion, the same devotion, that Shouyou used on the volleyball court.

Of course he didn’t manage to see it all. Six minutes were more than enough to make him reach a breathtaking orgasm.

After cleaning himself, changing, and getting back under the covers, he began to scroll through the comments with sincere curiosity (he would have killed all the haters).

‘’This doesn't make me sleep", typed someone. ''This makes me horny.''

Atsumu laughed (because really, it was the most accurate thing he'd ever read) and then he set the alarm, trying to count the sheep in his head without wondering what Shouyou's fingers would taste.

Probably coconut oil.

Seven hours, six minutes, and fifty-five seconds later,

Shouyou handed him a bowl of rice, and Atsumu thanked him with the same smile you give the person you would blow up the universe for and masturbate to at least three times a day.

''Atsumu-san'' he called after a few moments.

''Hmm?''

''Since the first video was so successful, I was wondering if you'd like to make another one!''

Did he like the idea? No, he didn't. He didn't like the idea at all. Lying on Shouyou’s bed again, breathing his smell, the risk of cumming on his covers. No, it would have been a terrible idea, in every possible way, an agony he would never want to live again.

''Of course,'' Atsumu therefore replied, swallowing a piece of salmon because not only he was reckless, but because he was such a brave (very brave!) lion-hearted man who laughed facing danger, and because true sailors never (ever!) abandon their ship even if they’re in the middle of a terrible storm, and because he was basically a masochistic asshole. ''Anything for ya, Shouyou-kun.''

Shouyou smiled, freckles glistening with gratitude, then stood up dripping with enthusiasm and hurried off to wash the dishes.

Sakusa Kiyoomi, for the second time in three years, gave him a sincerely sympathetic look, proving he was human after all, and whispered a heartfelt ''I'm sorry'' as if Atsumu was going to die. Well, he probably was.

Atsumu Miya was doing great, really.

Atsumu Miya just wanted to escape to the other side of the world, taking his brother with him (because it would be impossible to survive without his onigiris), and forget about Shouyou’s orange scent.

Thirteen hours, ten minutes and ten seconds later,

Atsumu found himself shirtless again, lying on his stomach on Shouyou's bed, lips pressed to his pillow.

Yeah, that definitely was a terrible idea.

''Okay, Atsumu-san!'' exclaimed the other, making noises with something Atsumu couldn't see, probably the camera. ''We're still having a massage today, but with some differences. First of all, I'll be wearing gloves, because I understand that the sound of latex relaxes people. Then, I'll be using soft brushes. Oh, and then...''

''Shouyou'' Atsumu interrupted him, because if he heard another word, his self-control would’ve shot himself. ''Do whatever you want, really.''

''Oh, okay! Thank you for trusting me, Atsumu-san!''

Atsumu sighed, just to regret it the next instant. It was a very unintelligent move, as the orange fragrance flowed straight (there was nothing straight about that situation) to his brain. As soon as Shouyou slipped on his gloves, the sound of latex vibrated in the room and Atsumu was shaken by a tremor.

''Relax,'' whispered the other (close, very close, _too close_ ), resting his fingers on his skin. ''You're stiff, Atsumu-san,'' he added again, in a barely audible murmur. ''Ssh.''

For fuck’s sake.

Atsumu tried to relax his shoulders, but how could he remain indifferent to the velvety feeling of Shouyou's gloved fingers sliding down his spine like water?

A rush of electricity ran over his thighs and abdomen, and it was so intense that it brought tears to his eyes. Atsumu was reaching peaks of unconsciousness like he had never experienced before. There was almost nothing left of his ability to control himself. He only wanted to sink his nails into Shouyou’s back, bite his inner thigh until he cried out in pain. He wanted to make him reach the peak of pleasure with his name on the lips (Atsumu-san, Atsumu-san, Atsumu-san), he wanted to fuck him from behind and cum inside him again and again and again, and then he wanted to spend the night with Shouyou’s face hidden in the hollow between his neck and shoulder, and kiss the buttons of his collarbones, and…

 _''Think about something disgusting''_ he said to himself, as soon as Shouyou's hands came dangerously close to his hips. _''Think about the squashed pigeons on the highway. Think about the time you saw Samu and Suna naked in the locker room. Think about the time Bokuto threw a booger right into Akaashi's eye. Think about the earthquake. Think about the scene where Eren's mother is eaten by the titan. Think about yellow nails. Think about Mario Kart’s rainbow road. Think about Kageyama Tobio. Think about something bad, something extremely bad...'_

Instead, something very soft replaced Shouyou's fingers: brushes. The soft bristles caressed his skin like a spring breeze, following the contours of his bones and of his muscles. Using them, Shouyou traced every inch of exposed skin, and Atsumu feared the shivers would crack his back like the tempera when it dries. He hoped that the camera's resolution wasn't high enough to focus on the goosebumps.

Then, Shouyou put down the brushes, returned to massage his lower back, and Atsumu went back trying to contain his moans. He completely lost track of time, burning in the flames of hell and floating on clouds of cotton candy. Atsumu just wanted to sink into that bed and take Shouyou (and his brother's onigiri) with him.

It wasn't until he heard the sound of latex caused by Shouyou slipping off his gloves that Atsumu allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief.

"We're done!" exclaimed Shouyou. ''Thank you, Atsumu-san! Do you… Uhm, want to watch a movie tonight?''

The worst possible scenario ever.

''Of course, Shouyou-kun,'' he answered then, without the slightest hesitation. ''Will ya bring me a glass of water first? Cause I’m dyin’ of dehydration'.'

Shouyou nodded, chirping an ‘’Of course Atsumu-san!’’, then he ran out the door headed for the living room, and Atsumu took the opportunity to sneak into his own room and lock himself in.

Fifty-three minutes, sixteen minutes and two seconds later,

Shouyou rested the back of his head on his shoulder. He had chosen a movie that seemed to be a masterpiece, and in fact he couldn't take his eyes off the television, his eyebrows arched in a rapt, involved expression. Atsumu had forgotten the title the instant after the other had pronounced it, and while scenes full of pathos followed one another on the screen, and the soundtrack echoed solemnly in the hall, Atsumu thought only of how close his hand was.

He wished he could take it.

Eleven days, nine hours, twenty-two minutes and four seconds later,

On Sundays and Tuesdays, Shouyou would record a new video in order to upload it on the channel the next day, helped by Kenma with the editing process. Atsumu let himself be massaged on his thighs, back of the neck, and arms, while the other listed the different properties of the various oils he used ( _‘’sweet almond oil is elasticizing and nourishing, coconut oil is emollient, argan oil on the other hand has antioxidant properties, Atsumu-san!’’_ ).

And while Atsumu converged all his self-control in a desperate attempt to hold back his orgasm and not jump on him ( _think about something bad, something bad, something bad..._ ), Shouyou created a gentle symphony using whispers and brushes and his hands. Atsumu realized that the same imagination that characterized Shouyou on the volleyball court, was also reflected in what he was doing to him. One day he used shaving foam, spreaded it on him, and the sounds of the foam were similar to the chocolate mousse one. Yet another time, using an eye pencil, he spent a good hour drawing along his back. It was awful for Atsumu, because he wanted to do the same with his freckles, connecting them together like a connect-the-dots game. Shouyou always came up with new ideas, and Atsumu always found himself wondering how much he would screw things up if he dared to kiss him.

However, he understood one thing: to stop being in love with Shouyou was impossible. It was an irreversible process, Atsumu would never go back, not after feeling his fingers on him, not after being touched like that, not after watching movies almost every night huddled against each other like complementary puzzle pieces, the plaid on their laps as if they were ninety years old and not professional volleyball players.

When Atsumu had found himself smiling simply because he could feel him breathing close, he had realized there was nothing more he could do about it. He was totally brain-dead, he wanted to list all the things he loved about Shouyou, from the most obvious features, like the freckles that peeked out shyly on his nose, to the fact that he always wore different colored socks.

Something intimate had developed between the two of them. Or at least, Atsumu thought so. What Shouyou thought instead, Atsumu had no idea. His personality was too different from his.

That morning, Sakusa handed him a cup of coffee again. It had now become a habit, a sign of how pathetic he must look in the eyes of others. Although Atsumu basically did nothing but let himself be massaged by Shouyou, those days were exhausting.

"I think you should just tell him," Bokuto said, giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder.

Atsumu looked around circumspectly, making sure that Shouyou was in the bathroom and not with them. ''Tell him what?’’

''That you're in love with him,'' Bokuto replied, then brought a finger to his chin thoughtfully. ''Or that you want to suck his cock, Tsum Tsum. It's the same thing.''

Atsumu blushed, then tightened his lips. ''Shouyou-kun is my teammate. I _don’t_ date my teammates.''

Bokuto and Sakusa exchanged a glance, but by mutual agreement they didn’t insist. It was really strange seeing Bokuto and Sakusa understanding each other just with one glance.

So it was true that love did miracles, uh?

Eleven hours, two minutes, eleven seconds later,

Atsumu sat on the purple sofa with a sleepy smile on his lips, stomach filled with onigiri, and the same enthusiasm as someone who knows he'll spend the next two hours watching a movie with Shouyou stuck to him. It was amazing (and stupid and pathetic and embarrassing) how fast his heart was racing.

Akaashi was also there that night. Atsumu sincerely hoped that he didn't look at Shouyou in the same dreamy and inebriated way that Bokuto looked at Akaashi.

They all sat down on the couch, like a big sandwich. Akaashi pressed play, and Atsumu squinted blissfully as Shouyou rubbed the back of his head against his neck.

''You two look like a couple,'' Akaashi observed in the silence.

Atsumu turned as red as a begonia in full bloom, while Shouyou laughed happily. He was so close.

''Impossible, 'Kaashi,'' Bokuto replied, without taking his eyes off the television, ''Tsum Tsum said he _doesn't_ date his teammates.''

Less than a second later,

Shouyou stiffened and lifted the back of his head, turning to look directly at him. A cold chill ran down his spine.

''Oh,'' Shouyou said, arching his eyebrows in surprise. ''I didn't know. Why?’’

''Because he's afraid of ruining the relationships in the team and his career'' Bokuto replied instead.

Although they were only a few inches apart, Atsumu at that moment had the feeling that a boundless ocean had suddenly materialized between him and Shouyou.

Shouyou nodded as if he understood perfectly, then turned his attention back to the movie, laughing at the jokes and stiffening during scenes of action and suspense.

Now, Atsumu loved Bokuto. He really did. He was probably his best friend.

In that moment, though, he would have gladly strangled him.

Twenty-one hours, thirty-seven minutes and four seconds later,

It was Tuesday, and Tuesday meant 'massage day', or even 'the day Atsumu prepared to fight against death as if he were a hero of Greek mythology ready to cross the realm of Hades and return'.

Practise had gone smoothly, both in the morning and in the afternoon, the coordination among the players had been breathtaking (thanks to him, of course) and both Atsumu and Shouyou had given everything they had. Even though there hadn't been the slightest hint on the court that their relationship was in trouble, Atsumu was still convinced that something had happened, as if a thin sheet of glass had suddenly appeared between them.

Was it because of what Bokuto said the night before? Was Shouyou, against all his expectations, expecting something from him? But what if it wasn't? It was tremendously difficult to distinguish real and proven facts from hopeless fantasies. The line between the two was blurred, and Atsumu was too emotionally involved to have the ability to scientifically analyze the entire situation.

However, he would find out soon enough. Shouyou would come knocking on his room in a few minutes in order to record the new video, and that would be a chance to confront each other, or at least to feel his hands on his body again.

Then, he heard Shouyou's door open.

 _''That's it''_ , Atsumu thought, his heart beginning to accelerate. _''He's coming.''_

But, against all expectations, Shouyou's footsteps faded into the hallway, heading toward the small living room. The next instant, someone rang the doorbell, and Atsumu curiously looked out of his room to see who it was.

Three seconds later,

Kozume Kenma entered their apartment, and Shouyou jumped on top of him with the same enthusiasm with which you hug a friend who has sponsored you for two years in Brazil without ever asking for anything in return (very normal stuff, after all, who wouldn't have spent a lot of money to allow Shouyou playing beach volleyball on the other side of the world. Surely Kenma and Shouyou seemed to be very good friends).

Miya Atsumu felt a bit like being dumped right in front of the altar.

One minute and forty-seven seconds later,

Shouyou, with a smile as bright as the sun, announced to him that Kenma would be directly helping him with the new video for the channel that evening.

Atsumu felt like crying.

Two seconds later,

Kenma smiled back at him dripping with malice, his gaze as sharp as the fish knives his brother used in the kitchen.

Atsumu felt like killing someone.

Atsumu felt like killing Kenma.

Nine seconds later,

Hinata added that Kenma would be spending the night there ( _I hope that's okay, Atsumu-san! but he'll be sleeping in my room anyway!_ ), and Atsumu felt like calling his brother.

Three minutes and ten seconds later,

''Onigiri Miya, what can we-''

'''Samu!''

''Tsumu, for fuck's sake, I'm at work.''

''It's a matter of life and death. Ya have to help me.''

"I don't owe ya shit. I’m still waiting for my pudding.’’

"Samu, there’s a lot of shit in my life right now. I don’t give a fuck about yer pudding.’’

"There’s always a lot of shit in yer life, ‘cause yer the entire shit first.’’

"Samu.’’

''...''

"Samu!’’

''Make it quick, Tsumu. Telegraphic.''

''Yes. Then. I'd like to kill the pseudo best friend of the guy I want to fuck. Also, I’m in love with Shouyou-kun, which is also the guy I want to fuck. What should I do?''

''...''

'''Samu?''

''I'd recommend therapy, for the first part.''

"And for the second?’’

"Call mom.’’

"Besides mom?’’

‘’Call dad.’’

‘’Besides dad?’’

"Stop being a coward, ya dipshit. Bye.''

''Hey! I'm not a coward! Samu? SAMU!''

Fourteen hours, fifty-one minutes, forty-three seconds later,

Atsumu wiped the sweat off his cheek, throwing a proud (desperate) look at Shouyou who was laughing on the opposite side of the court with Inunaki.

''Holy fuck, Atsumu'' Sakusa hissed, rolling his eyes. ''Pull yourself together.''

''But he dumped me! Wait, it’s even worse, he replaced me.''

''I wonder why.''

''Come on, Tsum Tsum!" Bokuto said, before giving him a very warm (and very painful) pat on the back. ''It's just for the channel. You can't expect him to give you massages all the time. He has to bring new guests, I guess, otherwise it would become boring. Besides, Kenma and Shouyou have known each other for years!''

''I don't feel like Kenma and Shouyou are just friends, to be honest.''

''In fact, I never said that they’re just friends, Tsum Tsum,'' Bokuto said, nodding seraphically.

Atsumu's eyes widened in horror.

_''What?''_

''What?''

''You just said... Kenma and Shouyou what? Bokkun! HEY! Come back! Fuck!''

Bokuto ran away. Atsumu turned to Sakusa, desolate.

''I wanna die.''

''I would gladly kill you all by myself, if it wasn’t illegal,'' retorted the other, without hesitation.

''But killin’ someone implied gettin’ covered in blood, Omi-kun, ya know? Germs would be everywhere.''

''Don't tempt me, Atsumu. I am willing to face my fears to get something I want. Unlike you.''

Eight hours, nine minutes, and fifty-eight seconds later,

Shouyou posted the new video. The notification appeared while he was playing Genshin Impact on his phone. Atsumu bit his lip, then put the phone down, because no, no, absolutely no, he wasn't going to watch the video, he didn't care at all. But then he grabbed his phone again with a grunt and opened the youtube app. As soon as he saw Kenma's bare back, blissfully lying on Shouyou's bed, Atsumu threw the phone across the room and sank into the pillow.

 _''I'm not jealous'',_ he thought. _''I'm not jealous and I'm not a coward. Shouyou-kun can do whatever the fuck he wants with his channel and I have no right to get angry._ _And in fact, I'm not angry. This is just the stress. It's because it's cold. Now I'm going to get up, take a cool selfie, post it on instagram and go out tonight to live my best life.''_

In the end, however, he did none of that. He remained motionless with his lips tight, the burning in his stomach flaring up like a volcano.

_Coward, coward, coward._

Five minutes and nineteen seconds later,

Miya Atsumu wasn’t fine. In fact, he looked like crap, to accurately describe his own psychological condition. But Miya Atsumu needed to prove to the world, and especially to himself, that he was brave, at least to make his brother take back his words. Therefore, he allowed himself only three deep breaths, before knocking on Shouyou's door despite the lump in his throat.

''Shouyou-kun. Can I come in?

''Atsumu-san!" the other exclaimed after a moment of silence. ''Of course you can!''

Atsumu slipped into Shouyou’s room, sensing the familiar smell of orange wafting through the air. In a sort of automatic reflex, he inhaled deeply.

''Do you need something?'' Shouyou asked, sitting on the bed.

''Nah, I just wanted to talk. I mean, with ya. I mean, about ya. I mean, about ya and me. Us. Fuck.''

Shouyou smiled, inviting him to continue. Atsumu sat on his bed, fidgeting and tense as if he had a hedgehog inside his ass. The one and only time he had tried to confess his feelings, he had been firmly rejected (but with extreme politeness) by Kita Shunsuke, during the second week of his first month of high school. Osamu and Suna made sure he never forgot.

''Are ya mad at me?''

Shouyou tilted the back of his head, perplexed. ''Why would I be mad at you, Atsumu-san?''

 _''Because you don't give me back massages anymore, and because we don't watch movies together anymore,''_ Atsumu thought, though as arguments, come to think of it, they were pretty weak.

''Just a feeling,'' Atsumu replied, shrugging his shoulders. A few moments of silence followed, as he didn't know what else to say.

''Atsumu-san,'' Shouyou called him. "Can I tell you something?''

Atsumu nodded.

''I like you a lot.’’

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck._

''And I thought you liked me back too. I mean, you're not exactly good at hiding how you feel. But that's part of your charm, I guess.''

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

''But then Bokuto-san said that you don't date your teammates. And so...''

''Wait,'' Atsumu interrupted him. ''I like ya too, Shouyou-kun.''

Then he looked down at his knees. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in. Holy shit, what had he gotten himself into? ''I like ya a lot, actually. It's just… I don’t know, it's not exactly an optimal situation I guess, falling in love with a teammate.''

''But why? Because of how the fans would react? Look, it wouldn't be a problem for me to keep the relationship a secret or something similar, if it’s important to you.''

''What are you even thinking?" Atsumu interrupted him, almost offended. ‘’I don’t want it to be a secret! Listen, I’d gladly worn fucking sweatshirts with yer face printed on them, with the caption ‘this is my fuckin boyfriend’, ya know?’'

Shouyou laughed. Oh god, what a delightful sound. ''Then what are you afraid of, Atsumu-san?''

''I don't know. We play together. If something happens between us, if we fight or worse, the team would be affected too. I'd be affected. You'd be affected.''

''I don't think so, Atsumu-san. I mean, you're too professional and too competitive to let your personal life affect your career. And it's the same for me. Besides, if we fought, we could always make up! Am I wrong?’’

Wrong? Of course he wasn't wrong. He was completely right. Shouyou was always right. Or maybe, Atsumu was just mesmerized by the other guy's face getting closer and closer, his eyelashes flickering, his eyes sparkling...

Four seconds later,

Atsumu finally _(finally)_ took his hand. And then, he discovered that Shouyou's lips tasted like orange too.

Two days, fifteen hours, twenty-seven minutes and fifteen seconds later,

Atsumu laid down on Shouyou’s bed with a relieved breath. It was the first time he had buried his face into Shouyou's pillow without being tense. Perhaps, for the first time, he would actually enjoy the massage and his honey and butter hands rubbing the coconut oil on his back.

''Are you ready, Atsumu-san?"

Atsumu murmured an assent, like a purring cat. When he felt Shuyou’s fingertips massaging his shoulders, the tension accumulated over the past weeks seemed to melt away.

Then, something wet and soft rested on his neck. Shouyou was kissing him.

‘’Shouyou?" Atsumu asked, opening one eye. ''What are you doing?''

''What does it look like to you?" the other replied in a whisper, licking his shoulder blade and then gently biting his tender skin. Atsumu stiffed, then turned his body and sank his nails into Shouyu’s back.

''Not that I'm complaining,'' he said. Then he kissed him, then he smiled at him, then he kissed him again. ''But what about the video for the channel?''

''Later, Atsumu-san.''

''But the camera’s still recording, Shouyou-kun.''

''It's the new movie we're gonna watch together tonight, Atsumu-san.''

 _Holymotherfuckingshit_ , Atsumu thought, pulling off Shouyou’s shirt as if he wanted to tear it.

Oh god, he was so fucking in love.

Twenty-four hours, zero minutes and one second later,

His phone exploded. Notifications from twitter, facebook, instagram began to vibrate like his phone was possessed. With a confused expression, he unlocked it and saw the message from his brother.

''Congratulations. Try not to fuck things up as usual.''

''Congratulations on what?" Atsumu texted him back, his brow furrowed.

The other's response was immediate. ''You haven't seen it yet? Open youtube.’’

With his heart pounding, Atsumu ignored the string of notifications that kept flashing and opened youtube.

There was a new video posted by NinjaShouyou ASMR.

 _''Doing ASMR on my boyfriend (alias Atsumu Miya!!!)''_.

Atsumu smiled.

Shit. One day he would fucking marry him.

''TSUM TSUM'' Bokuto said, screaming. ''Oh my god! You did it!!! Oh my god my disciple and my best friend are together oh my god I'm gonna cry!''

''Me too, Bokkun.''

Fifty-four days, one hour, twenty-seven minutes, and forty-two seconds later,

Miya Atsumu was completely fine. He had a bright future ahead of him (the league, the national team, the Olympics), his brother kept making him free onigiri, and his hair was getting cooler and cooler.

And then, there was Hinata Shouyou, his boyfriend ( _his! fucking! boyfriend!_ ), who kept using him as a lab rat for his ASMR-channel. Now, however, Atsumu didn't have to hold back anymore, and he could taste the orange flavor directly on his tongue when he kissed him. The pillow now also smelled of Atsumu's scent, since they finally started sleeping together (and Atsumu could finally caress his back, and count his freckles, and bite his cheeks, and whisper ‘ _good night Shouyou-kun, I love you’_ and hear him whispering back _'good night Atsumu-san, I love you more'_ , and do all those sappy and cheesy stuff that people in love usually do. Plus volleyball, because they were volleyball dorks).

And now, as Hinata Shouyou ( _his boyfriend!_ ) was sucking his cock as if he wanted to kill him and then to make him resurrect, even though their intertwined fingers suggested a much deeper feeling, Miya Atsumu agreed that yes, he was perfectly fine.

To be precise, Miya Atsumu was living his best life.

_Ten years, one hundred and fifty-seven days, twenty-two hours, fifteen minutes and eleven seconds later,_

_They were walking on the beach, the sand on their ankles, the lapping of the waves in the background._

_''Ya know,'' Atsumu said impulsively, brushing their fingers together. ''It would be cool if we got married.''_

_Shouyou turned to look at him with a gigantic smile._

_''That's funny, Tsumu'' he replied. ''I was thinking exactly the same thing.''_

_Then Shouyou took his hand. Soft and warm. Butter and honey._

_There was a lot of sunshine that day._

_Miya Atsumu was really living his best life, after all._

**Author's Note:**

> HELLOOO! Thank you for reading! I just wanted to say that the title was taken from the book ''Eleanor Oliphant is completely fine''. Hope you enjoy this shitty thing and yeah I'm obsessed with asmr videos, that's why i wrote down this stupid thing (plus my english level doesn't allow me to write something more pretentious ahahahha). You can find me [here](https://twitter.com/hanatsumu1321), love you all and stay safe!


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